Memories
by feelsthemagic
Summary: Draco Malfoy is haunted by memories of his past. Forced by his mother, he attends therapy meetings only to meet Harry Potter, complete with his own past and bad memories. Can the two of them work out their problems... perhaps together? WARNING: SLASHFIC!
1. Memories of a Nightmare

Anyone observing Draco and Narcissa Malfoy in their manor one cold, blustery November would have thought they seemed the height of content. They, as well as Lucius, were laughing and joking and generally having a merry old time. However, to the peeping observer watching, this would have merely been a façade. Indeed, Draco Malfoy felt positively dreadful. The last of the trials by Wizengamot had concluded just yesterday. Today was his father's last day with the family, for tomorrow, he would be shipped off to Azkaban to serve a ten year sentence.

Draco knew that their family had been let off lightly. His father should have, by all rights, gotten a life sentence. Yet once again, Potter the Hero had swooped down and saved the day. Arriving dramatically late to the trial, he had had to sit down for several minutes to curb his panting (Draco had sneered at his pathetic out-of-shape condition) before he managed to wheeze out defenses for the Malfoys.

Listening to Potter recount the details of the Final Battle had been painful. Draco had hoped to forget about it as soon as possible and continue with his life, or lack thereof. But Potter wouldn't let him forget. He'd continue to plague Draco's nightmares, his startling green eyes pleading with him as he lifted his wand to perform an Unforgivable…

No. Draco wouldn't think about that now. Yes, the Malfoys had been exceedingly lucky to escape as lightly as they did. Narcissa had no reason to face any punishment whatsoever. Most surprising, however, was that Draco had gotten off scot-free as well. Again, it was probably all thanks to Potter. Draco gritted his teeth in frustration. He really _hated _being in that boy's debt. Potter had spoken up for Draco at the trial as well.

"_Your opinion, Mr. Potter?" Harry paused, looking at Draco before wetting his lips to speak. "Your Honor, Draco Malfoy began sixth year, arrogant and proud, claiming to have received a special task from Lord Voldemort. I watched him for a while, mistrusting him, as I later found was well worthwhile. I am sure the Wizengamot needs no reminder of the incident on the Astronomy Tower that year…" he tapered off, seeming to be lost in memory. Draco inwardly groaned as he closed his eyes. He should have known that Potter wouldn't defend him as he had defended his mother._

_Grizzlybanks, newly appointed Chief Warlock, cleared her throat. "Yes, the Wizengamot is aware. Please continue." Harry jerked himself out of his memories and continued. "I was with Professor Dumbledore that day. I saw Mal- Draco Disarm him and prepare to kill him. From their conversation, it was evident that he had been coerced into this act by Lord Voldemort, under the threat of his parents' deaths. When it came time, however, Draco could not do it. He is not a killer._

"_This last summer, while I was on the run, I was kidnapped by Snatchers and taken to Malfoy Manor. There, Bellatrix had a suspicion that I was Harry Potter, though Hermione had cast a few quick charms to cover my appearance. She called Draco to come see. I knew that he could tell who I was. He saw Hermione and Ron there as well. He had ample opportunity to turn us in. He didn't. He lied to his family and the other Death Eaters, at great personal risk, to ensure our safety. I do not need to know his motives for this. All I care about is that he saved my life that day, whether he meant to or not. He is young, no older than I am. Just as I have had, he has also had great responsibility thrust onto him at too young an age. I believe his actions were solely to ensure that he and his family remained safe. That's all, Your Honor."_

Eloquent words, Draco mused. Yet no more and no less than he had spoken for any of the others at trial. Perhaps Potter had felt it necessary and fitting that he bring those Death Eaters that had remained loyal to the Dark Lord to justice? Had Draco been in his place, he couldn't say for sure he would have allowed them all fair trial. He would have been vengeful and angry, seeking to root out every last one and kill them with his own two hands. Perhaps that was the primary difference between him and Potter.

Ten years was a long time, and Lucius wasn't getting any younger. Draco could well imagine how Azkaban would treat him. Curiously, he felt nothing, no sadness, no anger. He just felt empty, as if someone had reached into him and taken out a small piece of his heart, leaving a gaping hole in its place. Yes, Draco truly loved his father, and though Lucius may not ever show it, he loved him too, quite deeply. The events of the Final Battle had shown Draco that fact all too clearly.

He was jerked out of his own wandering thoughts by the advent of his house elf, Winky. Draco had seen her at the Final Battle, looking hopelessly lost and confused, not to mention quite addled up by butterbeer. Taking pity on her, he had saved her from the raucous curses of the Death Eaters. In gratitude, she had pledged her undying loyalty to him and had served him faithfully ever since.

Now Winky pulled on his sleeve. "Master Draco is eating his dinner, please. Winky is having to clear up soon." He nodded at her absentmindedly, obediently putting a spoonful of tepid soup in his mouth.

"You may clear up, Winky. I'm not hungry." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Narcissa frown slightly. He sighed. She worried about him too much, analyzing every behavior of his as though he were mentally unstable. Draco rather thought she expected him to break down any minute.

Not to say he wasn't doing a good job of hiding it. The nightmares were the only constant in Draco's life, returning every night to haunt him. He always had the same nightmares- he was back in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor, torturing innocent Muggles while he himself was being held at wand point by Voldemort. First a small boy, as his mother was forced to watch, then the mother, and finally, a teenage girl Draco's age. Always, the girl morphed into Potter. Always, his green eyes would plead with Draco. Always, he would rasp out just two words in a broken voice: "Please, Draco." Always, Draco would raise his wand to cast the curse. Always, he would wake up just before he spoke, his tears mingling with sweat.

Draco had grown used to the nightmares. It didn't stop the pain that came with them, though. On the contrary, each night was becoming progressively worse. Draco had resorted to Silencing Spells to keep his screams unnoticed.

Draco couldn't handle thinking about the nightmares any longer. He turned to Narcissa. "Mother? May I be excused from the table?" Narcissa, who had been watching him with a troubled gaze merely inspected his face for several seconds before nodding in defeat, realizing that she would not find the information she wanted. Draco rose from the table and kissed her cheek before rushing from the room.

He crashed straightaway onto his bed, not even bothering to change. It wasn't long before he fell into a fitful sleep, tossing and turning. Narcissa stood by the door, watching him sleep, tear tracks running down her face.

"_Do it, Draco," ordered the cruel voice of Lord Voldemort. "Do it, or feel my wrath instead. Give him a taste of our displeasure." Draco froze as a small boy of no more than five stumbled into the room, being led by two Death Eaters. Voldemort hissed in anger as Draco continued to stall. "You would defy me? I have commanded you!"_

"_My Lord, I…I can't," confessed Draco, breathing heavily. The boy began to cry. "Mummy!" he wailed. He turned imploring eyes to Draco. "Please let me see my mum! I haven't seen her in a week!" Tears began to form in Draco's eyes as well as he watched the boy wipe away tears. "Tommy!" came a shriek. Turning to his right, Draco saw a young woman, tears pouring out of her eyes as well, as she ran towards her son._

_Just as she approached him, Voldemort gave a lazy flick of his wand. Draco watched in horror as she was slammed back into a wall, bound by an invisible barrier. "Avery!" called Voldemort. A hooded figure immediately came forward from the shadows of the circular room they were in. "I thought I told you to control her?" Avery's eyes widened. "My deepest apologies, My Lord. I-" "Enough," cut in Voldemort harshly. "Your punishment shall be discussed later." Avery flinched as though he had been scalded by hot water. "Leave." He fled the room faster than Draco could have imagined._

_Voldemort turned his attention back to the woman. "So this is your son? Very well, for your indiscretion, you may watch, as he is tortured." The woman's tears turned to sobs. "No, please! Take me instead! I'll do anything! Don't harm my son! Don't harm my darling little Tommy! I beg you!"_

_Voldemort suddenly seemed to grow furious. "What is his name?" he hissed quietly, dangerously. The woman hiccupped. "He's named for his father. His name is Tom." Voldemort seemed to battle against a furious rage before turning to Draco. "Crucio him, now." The woman's yells started up again. She turned to Draco, still struggling against her invisible barrier. "Please, don't listen to him! Don't harm my son!" Draco looked helplessly at the boy, who was crying harder than ever. "If you do not obey my orders at once, you will find yourself at the mercy of my wand. As well as your pretty mother." Voldemort's voice cut clearly through the sobs of mother and child. Draco, not making a sound, gave one last terrified look at the mother before turning to Tommy. He faltered for a moment. "Draco- NOW!" It was the first time Voldemort had yelled. _

_Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Cru- Crucio," he whispered. Tommy screamed in pain, his body rattling helplessly on the floor. His mother also screamed, and to Draco, it was the worst sound he had ever heard a human being make. She beat her fists against the barrier that Voldemort had created. Her hair flew wildly as she threw her entire body against the barrier. "TOMMY!" _

_Huge sobs took over Draco as he was forced to watch the pathetic display that he was responsible for. His own screams drowned out those of Tommy and his mother as Voldemort watched with a satisfied grin._

"Draco! DRACO!" he was wrenched awake by his mother. She threw herself on him, hugging him tightly as he choked. "Oh…God," was all he managed to get out before pulling himself out of her arms just in time before he threw up violently over the edge of the bed.


	2. Memories of Therapy

**AN- Hi all, just wanted to let you know, I really would like some reviews for this! I haven't gotten any yet, and that makes me rather sad… please, please, review! Enjoy this chapter, and trust me, I'm not JKR.**

A small pop sounded in the back alley of a tiny, run-down house. Draco Malfoy brushed off a speck of dust from his robes and looked around him, trying to get over the uncomfortable feeling of Apparition.

The place looked as though no one had been there in years. The grass was overgrown and threatened to spring up through cracks in the sidewalks. Paint seemed to peeling off of the walls of the house. Sneering, Draco strode purposefully around to the front of the house, and pulling open the heavy wood door, walked inside.

The inside was obviously charmed to look quite a lot better than the outside. A large desk stood in a small receptionist area in the front, with a gold-plated plaque saying simply "Dr. Orion Cromwell." Draco passed this desk and opened a door into a large room that seemed to be composed primarily of pillows and mirrors.

Dryly, he commented, "I think someone's mattress just exploded." He heard a chuckle behind him and immediately spun around, drawing his wand. He saw a man of about thirty approaching him. "No need for that," he said pleasantly. "I'm not planning on attacking you anytime soon."

Giving him an apprehensive look, Draco put his wand back in his robes, feeling slightly foolish for his overreaction. "Who are you?" he asked roughly, to cover up his embarrassment. The man extended his hand for Draco to shake. "I'm Dr. Orion Cromwell. I take it you are Draco Malfoy?"

Draco merely nodded, allowing his hand to be shaken. "Welcome, Mr. Malfoy. Just give me a few more minutes for people to arrive and then we'll get started on our group therapy sessions." Therapy sessions. Draco shook his head. How did he let his mother convince him into this?

After Narcissa had woken from his awful nightmare, she had sent him straight back to bed with a Dreamless Sleep potion, giving Winky firm instructions to watch him closely and inform her of any unusual behavior. The next morning, after Lucius's departure, she had turned to him. After much arguing and pleading, she had managed to cajole Draco into accepting therapy sessions to help him get over his nightmares.

Now, one week later, he was sitting in a stuffy room that reminded him a little too much of Trelawney's old room as he watched people walk in with varying degrees of what was obviously mental trauma or just plain insanity.

First came Luna Lovegood. Really, Draco couldn't comment there. Did that girl get any more insane? He supposed that being kidnapped and held at Malfoy Manor hadn't done much for her. She was worn and thin, not at all like her usual eccentric and bubbly self.

Next, a woman walked in. Looking at her, he started up, a sound of shock escaping form his mouth. It was Andromeda Tonks, but her resemblance to Bella was uncanny. She turned to look at him after his sound of shock. Her own eyes widened by a fraction, but in the next second, she had turned to go sit by Luna.

A few more people entered that Draco didn't recognize. One was a small, balding man with reddish hair, escorting a woman who seemed very jittery. Draco thought he may have seen them at the Ministry before. Another was a girl of Draco's age, with long black hair that reached down to her waist and bangs that she repeatedly pushed out of her eyes.

The last two to walk in were two people Draco honestly wished he would never have to see again. It was Longbottom and Potter. They were talking amiably, and with a wave at Andromeda and Luna, they sat down nearby, continuing their conversation.

"All right, everyone, welcome. I'm Dr. Orion Cromwell, but you may call me Orion. I suggest we go in a circle and say our names. I want us all to be friends here." Draco rolled his eyes. This Cromwell guy sounded like a kindergarten teacher. Several other people were rolling their eyes as well, including Potter. However, they complied.

"Dr. Orion Cromwell."

"Charlotte Johannes. Call me Sherry" That was the dark haired girl.

"Luna Lovegood."

"Andromeda Tonks."

"Reginald Cattermole."

"Mary Cattermole."

"Harry Potter." The Cattermoles stared at him in obvious awe.

"Neville Longbottom."

Finally, it came to Draco. "Draco Malfoy," he drawled, looking supremely bored. Turning, he saw Potter whisper something to Longbottom, and they both turned to look at him, looking away hastily when they saw his contemptuous glare.

Draco dragged himself out of therapy one hour later. Orion had simply talked on and on about how memories could hurt sometimes, but it was important to let go, and how one could take hold of their future, _take hold of their future_, and Draco had wanted to pound Cromwell's stupid head into a wall.

_What a waste of an hour, _he thought. _If it weren't for Mother, I wouldn't ever go back._ He briefly stopped, thinking of Potter's accusatory eyes as he looked at him from across the room. Shaking his head to rid himself of these thoughts, he moved forward to his Apparition point. Stupid Potter could just go die.

He jumped as someone (or something, he thought furtively) went hurtling past him, crashing seconds later into the wall of the therapy house. Raising an eyebrow, he turned to see the remains of a broom. As Draco stood staring at it, Potter went rushing by him.

"Sorry about that!" he called over his shoulder. He stopped by the debris and shook his head remorsefully. Turning, he saw Draco and stiffened. He obviously hadn't realized who he was apologizing to.

Draco gave him a cold look that seemed to ooze contempt. Turning sharply on his heel, he continued on his way only to be stopped by a shout from Potter behind him. In annoyance, he swirled around to see Potter only inches from his face. In surprise, he took a step back.

"Can I help you?" There, perfect. Just the right amount of cool unconcerned-ness with just a hint of disdain. Draco gave himself a quick congratulatory pat on the back before raising an eyebrow at Potter, waiting for an answer.

"What are you doing here?" Blunt, rude, just like Potter. Draco huffed in annoyance. "I don't see how that is any concern of yours." Inwardly, he fumed. How dare Potter question him as though he were the bloody Minister of Magic himself? Though to be fair, said Minister _was _in Potter's pocket, after all, Draco reflected. He winced upon thinking of how much larger Potter's ego would be now.

"Answer the bloody question, Malfoy." Draco considered. Should he answer? On one hand, it would be awfully demeaning to do so. On the other, he doubted Potter would leave him alone until he gave a satisfactory answer. He sighed. Best comply, then.

"What do you think I'm doing here? The same thing as you, I presume."

"You're up to something, I know it. You can't trick me." How immature.

"How clever of you," Draco drawled, yawning delicately. "Well, now that you have oh-so-brilliantly detected and duly foiled my evil and cunning scheme, I'm going to go back home and think up some more ways to outwit the lovely Golden Boy."

Potter turned an interesting shade of purple. "You may think you can talk your way out of this, Malfoy. But don't think you can get away with anything. I'll be watching you. You're nothing but a sneaky, conniving little ferret." He stomped off.

Draco cringed. That brought up some bad memories of fourth year that he just didn't want to go into. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you liked following me around, Potter!" he called to Potter's retreating back. "Stalking me the way you do." Satisfied upon getting the last word in, he Apparated with a crack.

Later he ranted to Narcissa about the incident. "Can you believe the gall of him, Mother?" he demanded, paving about the living room of Malfoy Manor. He told me, _told me,_ that I was up to no good! I think I'd know that for myself, don't you? Not to mention the way he's always following me around, damn annoying, if you ask me! Sixth year, he wouldn't leave me alone! Followed me into a bathroom, that's just bordering on creepy!"

Narcissa bit her lip to hide a smile. "Draco, my dear, please calm down. You yourself said that Potter's opinion doesn't mean anything to you. The production you're putting on would suggest otherwise."

"Mother, you simply don't understand! Potter is just infuriating…he…agh!" Lost for words, Draco let out a frustrated noise and threw his hands into the air, collapsing onto a nearby couch.

"Well, never mind that, Draco. The point is, did the therapy group have anything useful?" Narcissa felt that given the chance, Draco would merely rant for hours about Potter, it was best to cut him off and distract him before he could do so.

Draco snorted. "As if. Mother, it was absolutely awful. Cromwell merely went on and on about _taking hold of our future._" Narcissa's attempt to smother a laugh didn't go quite unnoticed this time. Draco narrowed his eyes and glared pointedly at her.

"How can you laugh at a time like this? It's bloody _awful_. He sat there with his eyes going all round and asked us to think about what we wanted to do with our lives. And to top it off, he talked about how we all had inner power just waiting to be released! It was like a bloody inspirational message like they write on the corners of napkins at Madame Puddifoot's!"

Narcissa smirked. "How do you know what they write on those napkins? I seem to recall you telling me once, quite firmly, too, that you would 'never deign to step into an establishment so pink and frivolous as that'?" Draco flushed to about the same shade of pink as the tablecloths at Madame Puddifoot's. He shifted uncomfortably and muttered something about Pansy and bloody girls with their bloody romantic notions.

Narcissa's smirk widened. "You went in there with Pansy?" Draco scowled. "She dragged me! I had no other choice! You know how she is when she wants something, Mother. That cow."

"Draco, don't talk about her like that. It's rude," Narcissa said, not being quite able to hide the twinkle in her eyes. "She can't help that she's a tad…" Narcissa trailed off, unsure of how to put it delicately.

"Pug-faced?" Draco offered helpfully. He grinned. "She has the whole school thinking we're together." Narcissa went into peals of laughter. "You and…her? You've got to be kidding me," she choked out between chuckles.

Laughing as well, Draco stood. "I should probably go. Zabini mentioned something about a surprise that he wanted to show me. It's probably another jeweled mirror or something equally frivolous, but I'd best go take a look."

Narcissa stood as well, sobering. "Yes, very well. I'll have Winky keep supper ready for you, shall I? And if it's another mirror," she added. "Tell Zabini from me that he's a vain pompous old prat. Honestly, the boy's worse than that Weasley child."

Draco smirked. "Which? There are too many of them to tell apart." Swatting him on the shoulder, Narcissa replied, "The one from the Ministry. I think his name is Percy or something equally poncy."

Rolling his eyes, Draco walked out of the room. Narcissa watched him until he was out of sight, and then leaned back onto the couch, sighing. "He may try to deceive me all he likes," she said aloud, to herself. "I'm his mother, though, and I can tell there's something wrong with him. Still," she said, standing up once more. "It's a good show he puts on." So saying, she exited the room, not noticing two large eyes that had widened upon hearing the words.

"Master Draco is still upset," Winky mused to herself. "Winky is needing to help him somehow."


End file.
